The Jock Strap - Part 2

As he sat through yet another history lecture on the war of 1812, Kurt couldn’t figure out what had come over him. He’d stolen a teammates jock strap, and on top of that one still covered in said teammate’s semen. It was insane - he was insane. That was the only logical explanation. Kurt barely took any notes, constantly distracted by the presence of the soiled garment in his school bag. He didn’t dare open it for fear of a nearby classmate noticing the odor, but the mere thought of what he’d done and what he now possessed drove him to distraction.

Kurt remained much the same way the rest of the day. Once his final lecture was done he practically bolted home to a small townhouse off campus. Once there he ran to his room, slammed the door, threw open his bag onto his bed and emptied its contents.

And there it was: Erick’s jockstrap, now slightly off-yellow from its former pristine white due to the dried cum of its previous owner. It also reeked just as much as Kurt thought it would, the stench already filling his small bedroom, and yet he didn’t find it unpleasant. Powerful, certainly, but not bad - almost exotic somehow, foreign, like another man’s essence suddenly present in his room.

The smell immediately brought forth images of Erick’s quivering backside from earlier that day, his muffled grunts somehow louder in his mind’s eye. He grabbed the jockstrap and brought it to his face, inhaling deeply, and immediately felt a rush of blood to his cock as the eroticism of before all came flooding back. In seconds Kurt was harder than he’d ever been as he desperately shucked his pants to hammer away on his dick. He came in moments, shooting ropes of jizz over his bedspread without a care in the world.

Then Kurt took the jockstrap away from his face, came down from his lust-fueled frenzy, and realized what he’d done. There was no toweling this mess off - he’d cum more than he ever had. He’d have to wash his duvet.

Sighing, he wadded up his blankets and stomped downstairs, leaving the jockstrap behind on the mattress. Later that night he’d repeat the episode, only this time by arcing his shots so they splattered over his torso. He also ordered a late night pizza, managing to finish half before finally falling asleep in his food stained t-shirt.

Kurt woke to the sound of his alarm still blaring. He slammed his hand heavily on the button and looked at the time: 7:45. He was late! He was never late! 

Suddenly eyes wide and full of adrenaline, he threw off the covers and ran to gather clothes for the day, forgoing the usual shower. He didn’t have practice today, but he did plan to workout, so quickly packed a change of clothes.

Moments before he left the room, and with a slice of cold pizza from last night in his mouth, he noticed the jockstrap still sitting on his bedside table. He paused and stared at it for a moment before an idea struck him. He donned the odorous undergarments, now stiff from the dried cum, and clipped the excess waist strap together with a safety pin so it stayed up. The leg straps still dangled loosely, but it would serve for the day.

He ran to school, taking bites of pizza as he did. It wasn’t good form, and he chastised himself, but he was late and he never skipped breakfast. It was the most important meal, after all. Still, he found himself more winded than he usually was on the short run, and his t-shirt was damp with sweat by the time he made it to campus. He thankfully brought a change with him so he wouldn’t go the full day sweaty, but he’d have to grin and bear it for the first few classes as he was still late.

He made it to his first lecture only 10 minutes in and sheepishly apologized to the professor while he found a seat as far away from everyone as he could manage. Once seated he discretely attempted to determine his own odor and was appalled to find the short run had rendered him grossly offensive. He prayed it was only detectable up close, but over the course of the lecture, he noticed several nearby students begin to look around as though searching for the source of something noxious. Nobody seemed to find him out, but it had him on edge the entire lecture.

As soon as the professor finished Kurt practically bolted to the next class so that he could find a spot as far away from anyone as possible. He did it again for the third lecture before finally hustling to the gym for his morning workout. The gym was normally filled with sweaty guys so his pungent attire wouldn’t be out of place - at least he hoped.

Today was legs day, and after a brief warm up he immediately went to the leg press to begin his sets. He loaded the machine with his usual weight and started pushing, but after a few reps he noticed he wasn’t getting tired. Surprised, he stopped, and then added a few more weights to the machine to begin again, and again found he was able to lift more. He repeated this process one more time before finally finding a weight that satisfied.

After finishing his set and catching his breath, Kurt realized he’d just blown way past his personal best by a long shot. As he went around to each machine and each set of free weights, he found the same thing happened again and again. By the time he was finished he had broken all his previous records, and not just by a few pounds here and there, by dozens upon dozens of pounds. It was at once amazing and slightly alarming.

As he toweled himself down and made his way to the locker room to shower and change he felt a tap on his shoulder. He turned and was surprised to see Erick’s behemoth form looking down at him.

“Hey Kurt, quick question,” he began, “you seen my jock strap around? I musta forgot it after practice yesterday.”

Kurt quickly shook his head. “No man, sorry. Haven’t seen it.”

Erick frowned briefly but seemed to accept the lie. “Alright, keep an eye out for it. Thanks,” he grunted before lumbering off to his own workout.

Kurt exhaled and made his way to the locker rooms. When he took off Erick’s jock strap he made sure to place it in his book bag and lock his locker, just in case.